On the cusp of discovery…pushing the door open even wider.
Here are snippets from additional summer/fall 2015
contributors:
Jacqueline Henry Hill’s excerpt from “Detour”
goes straight to your soul,
another errand,
same instructions. go straight there. don’t stop. don’t talk to nobody.
stay away from those boys. come right back.
a dripping sticky moistness attacks her hairline,
dark visage, patent leather-shiny and dewy damp.
an adventuresome spirit whispers a daring detour,
safety secured by villagers, seen and unseen.
To their cars and shops, to the flower mart
They hurriedly scurry alongWhile I sleep on the streets, next to my cart
In places they say I don’t belong
They pretend not to see me, an inconvenient truth
To them, I am just a bum, unkempt and uncouth.
Funny farm, the loony bin, and the
nut house, are common terms used to describe a place or an institution,
remotely removed from civilization, full of people who have literally lost
their shit. But it’s a completely
different story when one of your own is living this nightmare, wearing a
wristband, stamped with a medical number, and a cop watching her every move.
The text read: IT’S CHAR - URGENT! My gut immediately told me that Violet was in trouble. She had a mean case of the reds and I knew she had done the unthinkable. I called Char and told her to call Violet’s mom. Char, pulled over on the side of the road in Van Nuys, screamed hysterically, “I already did and Magda’s clueless.” Her voice was muffled against the traffic raging by. “Said I was exaggerating. Hello, she emailed me a suicide letter….
Robert Bharda (Ward) joins our community of
visual artists with his exhibition. Here
is one piece to savor until the next issue is launched:
Our new issue is working it's
ways towards you. No doubt!
These appetizers have whetted my appetite.
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